


Frayed and Worn

by PiratePlume



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Being The Elite (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratePlume/pseuds/PiratePlume
Summary: This happens before March 11, 2020's episode of Dynamite: Matt misses Nick while Nick is at home with an injury, TK tells Matt he’s the mystery partner who will be tagging with Adam against Chris Jericho and Sammy Guevara, Matt and Adam get into an argument.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Frayed and Worn

Disoriented.

That’s how he felt without his brother. Like he was in a dream where everything _seemed_ normal, but there was one tiny thing off that kept telling him this wasn’t reality. That was how Matt Jackson felt as he walked the long cement-brick lined walls of the back hallways of the building they’d rented for that evening’s Dynamite. Automatic, his hand reached for his phone – he’d kept grabbing it and clicking the screen to see if Nick messaged him – yet again, no message.

It wasn’t that Nick was ignoring him. He was home, side-lined with an injury he’d sustained at Revolution at the hands of Adam Page. A flicker of annoyance crossed Matt’s face, lips pulling in a line of dissatisfaction. He clenched and unclenched his hand. It was hard not to answer to the anger inside his gut the second anyone harmed his brother. It was even harder with the way Adam had been behaving lately.

His own voice from after Revolution echoed briefly in his mind.

_ “What the hell is Adam’s problem?” _

_ “Well,” it was Kenny, spoken quietly, and an uncomfortable look crossed over him when Matt’s dark, angry stare turned toward him. “I just think there’s a lot of… I don’t know, misunderstanding and tension, and what happened at that interview beforehand didn’t exactly help matters.” _

_ “He’s the one who started it!” Matt’s incredulous shout had bounced off the small, confined space of the medical room he, Nick and Kenny were occupying after the match. _

_ A look of argument crossed Kenny’s face before he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, looking away before he sighed and shook his head. _

_ “What? You got something to say Kenny?” _

_ “I’m too tired for this shit right now, Matt.” He’d slid off the medical bench, careful of his newly wrapped, broken finger, and glanced over his shoulder just briefly at the brothers. He lingered for a moment, like he wanted to say more, then shook his head and walked out of the room. _

Matt frowned, shaking his head and turning down another long stretch of hallway. Around him the production crew were bustling around, preparing for the upcoming show and they seemed to know to give the solitary buck a wide berth. Murmurs of dissent in the Elite were growing in number, and Matt didn’t like the way that sat inside him. There was enough to worry about with the Inner Circle and Dark Order, he didn’t want to feed them anything that might clue them in to a potential thread they might tug to unravel it all.

“Hey, Matt!”

Glancing up, the sight of Tony Khan’s smiling face brought momentary relief. Tony talked about a thousand words per minute, and Matt sometimes had to work so hard to keep up with him he knew he wouldn’t have time to ruminate over the damaging thoughts circling relentlessly in his head. He offered a slightly more tired, but still honest smile. “Hey TK, what’s up?”

“Adam’s down a partner tonight, Kenny still isn’t medically cleared. It’s Jericho and Sammy, so I need it to be someone from the Elite. Can you tag with him tonight?”

“Are you… wait, are you serious right now?” An incredulous laugh left Matt in a huff, brows pulling inward as he studied TK’s face for any sign of a cruel joke.

He wasn’t joking.

“Yeah, Matt, I’m _serious_.” He said the word with weighted authority. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes TK found subtle ways to remind his EVP’s who owned the company at the end of the day. “Whatever beef you two have, learn to get over it for tonight. I’m down two of my top performers in the Elite and we’ve got to push this feud to the forefront before Blood and Guts. You don’t have a match tonight, so I need you to step up and tag with Adam.”

Another breathy, disbelieving breath pushed hard from his lungs and he shook his head before rolling his eyes. “Well, does Adam even know about this?” Surely Adam would have argued against it.

“Not yet.” Tony said, fishing his phone out of his pocket as it started to ring. He glanced at the caller on the screen and then back up at Matt. “I have to take this. I’ll get someone to find Adam and tell him. You just get to the ring when you’re needed, okay?”

He didn’t give Matt any time to argue, clicking to answer the call and shooting him a look as he brought it up to his ear that said:  _Figure out how to be okay with it. I’m not asking you, I’m **telling** you._

With his hands pinching his narrow hips, Matt ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, shook his head and reached for his phone. Within mere seconds he had the text conversation with Nick shining brightly up at him and his fingers began to fly, ranting with rage at the incredulity of the situation. Two and a half sentences in, his fingers froze, and he glanced back at what he’d written, thought of Nick miles and miles away, stuck at home recuperating, and the tense set to his shoulders dropped. He clicked to highlight what he typed and deleted it, locking his phone and stuffing it back in his pocket.

Nick didn’t need to be bothered by it. He’d see when he watched Dynamite and Matt could take comfort in knowing all his frustrations would be validated afterwards. He’d probably have a ton of text messages ready for him as Nick watched from home. The ache of not having Nick by his side stung again and Matt set off in an aimless direction, wanting to get out of the line of sight and away from anyone who might come and talk to him. He went for the first door he saw that seemed to lead to an unoccupied, smaller room.

Only it wasn’t unoccupied.

“Great,” he said out loud, drawing the blue eyes of Adam Page up his front from where the cowboy sat lounging on a large black storage container. The curious light in them was immediately snuffed once they recognized Matt, and they burned almost immediately with irritation. The comfortable way he’d been sitting left too as he straightened his back and lifted his chin, glaring Matt’s way. One half of the tag team title belts sat beside him and Matt’s eyes inevitably fell to its luring shine.

Adam _noticed_. He pulled the strap, tucking it in a little closer toward his hip.

Their eyes drew back toward each other and Matt knew he needed to leave the room instead of continuing to test the taut pull of tension strung between them before it snapped. Already the energy was building and pushing at the walls, filling every empty crevice in the room and making him feel as though his heart was pounding a little harder.

“I’m tagging with you tonight. TK’s call.” 

He tested it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Adam immediately spat, and that pure, hot hatred in his tone churned something bitter in Matt’s stomach. When had this happened? When had they gone from friends, _from brothers_ , to this? Had Adam _always_ hated him? 

“Wish I was.” Matt said and pulled his eyes away. There was so much more he wanted to say, but it seemed like every time he tried to talk to Adam, things went sour and got worse and worse. Especially when it was just between themselves.

“Well,” Adam rolled his eyes and lifted a cup to his mouth to take a swallow. It wasn’t a clear, plastic cup that let him see what Adam was drinking, but Matt didn’t need three guesses to know what it probably was. Adam shoved himself hard off the storage container and gathered the belt, hoisting it with a comfortable ease on his shoulder. He’d grown accustomed to its weight. Matt tried to ignore the way his stomach turned, and his own shoulder ached, wanting to feel that familiar, comfortable weight on it again. To stop letting everyone down who’d looked to him and Nick to be among the first of the tag team to hold them. Adam took a step as if he meant to move past Matt, and Matt stepped toward the side to give him the space to do so.

But Adam paused in front of him.

“Get used to standing on the apron, because I sure as hell won’t be tagging you in.”

“Adam are you serious?” Matt scoffed, staring at his profile. “You’re so caught up in your bullshit that you want to try and take on Chris Jericho and Sammy Guevara by yourself?”

“Yeah, Matt, I’m serious.” Adam said and turned so he and Matt could stand face to face. The overhead lights glittered playfully on the belt and tried to draw Matt’s attention, but he clenched his jaw and glared into Adam’s face instead.

“You can’t take them by yourself.” He heard the incredulity and doubt in his tone but did nothing to soften the blow. This close, he could see the way Adam’s eyes brightened with the challenge.

“Like you’d be any fucking help to me.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” They both knew he wasn’t, so Matt didn’t pause long enough to expect an answer. “Do you really think I’d just hang you out to dry with Jericho and Guevara?”

He had a brief flash back to Adam, pinned by his body weight against the ring canvas. His fingers clenched and unclenched, remembering the way it felt to have his fists come down again and again and again and again… How he’d been overcome by some _senseless_ rage that he lost comprehensive thought until Nick physically pulled him away and threw him back against the ropes. Matt remembered the way Nick had looked at him. It was one of the things Nick did best, communicating without words strong enough to check his brother’s rage. Without Nick, Matt struggled to restrain himself.

His eyes refocused on the present. Hangman was watching him.

“I don’t know _what_ the hell you’re capable of these days, Matt. But I sure as hell know I don’t **_need_** you, I don’t need your brother, I don’t need Cody - hell! I don’t even need Kenny! I got this. All on my own.”

“All on your own, huh?” Matt laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“Yeah!” Adam’s voice was sharp, a sudden increase in volume that smacked the walls and reverberated around them. “On **_my_** own, Matt. Just like I _pinned_ you at Revolution and just like I saved yours and Cody’s ass from the Inner Circle last week. On. My. Own.”

They were so close their bodies were almost touching. Mere inches, maybe even centimeters, lay between their heaving chests as they took deep breaths and glared into one another’s eyes. Matt could feel the heat rolling off Adam’s body. Out of the corner of his eye the shining, unfocused haze of the belt on Adam’s shoulder tried to lure him again. Matt refused to give in to the urge to look its way. He wouldn’t give Adam the satisfaction either, knowing he would pounce like a ravenous dog feasting on what he perceived to be true: all Matt cared about was taking the belt from him.

That wasn’t it. Not _exactly_.

“You’ve become a real dick lately, you know that Adam?”

Adam’s brows jumped upward and a smile smeared across his face. “Oh, _I’ve_ become a real dick?” He pointed at his chest and raised his brows higher, creating wrinkles over his forehead. The smile pushed a little wider across his mouth. The humor Adam wore had a bite to it. “Well, I suppose you only have yourself to thank. I’ve learned from the biggest one of them all.”

Hurt and anger exploded inside Matt, and it took everything not to raise a fist and swing right then and there. It’d be satisfying to wipe that taunting expression off Adam’s face, and it’d be satisfying to get the energy built up inside him out by swinging wildly when Adam fought back. He didn’t care who was goading who, he just knew it’d feel damn good to stop thinking and holding himself back and just let Adam have it. There wouldn’t be Kenny or Nick come to break them up. Who knew how long it’d be before someone heard the commotion of them fighting and came into the room to break them up? How much more damage could they inflict on one another?

Another few, tense seconds crawled by before Adam lifted his paper cup and drained the rest of whatever he’d been drinking, eyes staying locked with Matt throughout. When he lowered it, crumpling it in his fist, Matt’s eyes went from Adam’s mouth then back to his eyes. The blue there was dark and troubled. He turned away without saying another word and reached for the door.

“It’s Inner Circle versus The Elite, Adam.” Matt said at his back as Adam turned the handle, hating the defeated, tired tone he could hear creeping into his voice. His back suddenly ached worse than it had all day. Or maybe it wasn’t just his back, but his entire body. His _heart_. Everything felt heavy. He didn’t bother turning to look at Adam’s back. “We have to do it.”

Adam laughed dryly and started to open the door. “When the fuck is it going to get through your heads I’m not apart of The Elite anymore?” Matt didn’t answer and Adam didn’t wait around for him to. He took off through the open door, leaving Matt alone to stomach the sour taste on his tongue.


End file.
